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Raven mare stareth at th' ashen mare, and
th' bay stud. She backs 'way, but then nostrils sniff at th' ashen...
recognition creeps 'nto 'er memory. Was th ashen friend from afar journey
'way? May 'er scent be o' th' one that befriended 'er from the
North? She shakes 'er head, unsure. She turns 'er now sheltered gaze to th'
stud. She ducked 'er head, unsure. Solitary was 'er way, she was unsure now. Who
was this stud?